


no good for you, no good for me

by delinquentpanda



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, aggressive seduction, akira babe thats not how you confess, devilman crybaby netflix, graphic violence for safety, its devilman so kinda fucked up, messed with canon so amon speaks a bit, ryo hun thats not how you get attention, wow that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 15:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20229937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delinquentpanda/pseuds/delinquentpanda
Summary: Akira and Ryo are researching demons and Ryo wants attention.





	no good for you, no good for me

**Author's Note:**

> crybaby had me crying awhile ago and i thought itd be fun if Ryo realized fucking akira was a better past time than starting the apocalypse

“Akira.”

“Hm?” Akira grunts, glancing over to his friend before looking back at the sleek screen balanced on his knee. After a moment filled only with more news reporters droning on about missing persons, Ryo makes a small noise at the back of his throat and gets up. “Where are you—” Akira cuts off when Ryo comes to stand directly in front of him, hand slapping down on the high tech tablet. “Hey!”

“I said, 'Akira’,” Ryo states flatly. In a second, he’s thrown the tablet away casually, like it's not worth more than most of Akira's stuff put together. It hits the floor and audibly cracks, speakers cutting out as it bounces a bit further with a small spray of glass.

Leaning back slowly into the couch, Akira says, “O-kay?” He must have missed something, because, despite Ryo not being the most caring with things, even expensive things, he usually wouldn't destroy it purposefully. Too annoying to replace, he's said. Akira's confusion grows when his friend's expression tightens. An odd, tense silence falls over the room and Akira can't look away from Ryo. He doesn't think he could look away if a horde of demons came charging through the door.

Ryo had always been captivating; it's hard to ignore a white, blond kid in Japan to begin with, and that's not even including his commanding personality and incredibly high IQ, but this is different. His eyes seem to be glowing and his thin lips tilt down, like he’s studying a particularly stubborn riddle. Akira resists the urge to touch him and definitely ignores the violent hiss in the back of his mind to _ take_, because Ryo has never been interested in... _ that_. At least, not with men from what Akira has seen. Still, the staring is making his fangs itch to come out.

The door opening is like thunder in Akira's ears. Jenny, smiling vacantly and wearing a loose blouse with nothing beneath, as always, steps into the living room and freezes. Ryo’s eyes narrow, not looking away from Akira.

“Leave,” he orders. The confidence, the assurance that his directives will be followed, stirs the dark desires of Akira's demon. ** _Make him submit_**, it growls. ** _Show him he's not invincible, like we are_****.**

Lip twitching, Akira barks back, _ Shut the fuck up_. When he turns his attention outward, he sees that Jenny's gone and Ryo seems a little closer than before.

“It spoke to you.” Not a question, but a statement of fact. Ryo is always twelve steps ahead, somehow. Head tilted, he asks, “How long has it done that?”

“Uh, I guess since I gained control?” Akira thinks back on the rare instances of communication. “It's mostly when I'm resisting what it wants to do entirely.” Which is usually sexual or violent, often a mixture of the two. The things he's done, like watch porn in school and show off at track, aren't exactly socially acceptable, but it was a nicer alternative to go along with than, say, murdering anyone who looks at his family wrong.

“And what does it want to do now?”

Eyes widening, Akira’s mouth drops open slightly. _ Walked right into that. Fuck. _ Every second he delays answering, Ryo’s eyebrow lifts higher and his frown grows, but _ damnit _ he didn't have an excuse that wouldn't get him kicked out. _ He’d understand, right? _ he thinks to himself. _ It's the demon, not _ _ me_.

A low, rumbling chuckle reverberates in his mind. ** _Keep telling yourself that and maybe you'll even believe it, eventually._ **

“I said, _ shut up_!” Akira growls to himself, claws sprouting from his fingertips.

“Akira,” Ryo snaps. The Devilman glares up at him, teeth bared, but he continues with a sharp tone, unbothered. “Tell me what it wants.” When Akira shakes his head mutinously, Ryo looms closer, inches away from sharp fangs. “Tell me.” His voice drops to a harsh whisper in a twisted version of intimacy; blond hair falls to hang around his face, framing it like a halo and once more bringing Akira's attention to just how bright the blue of Ryo's eyes are. “Tell. Me.”

Akira hisses. “Fine! You! It wants _ you_!” Ryo doesn't even blink, but his lips twitch upward, pleased. Suddenly, it's too much: every little thing Ryo does reads unbearably _ smug _ so Akira opens his mouth and lets go, wanting to see that self-satisfaction disappear, or at least find a crack. “It wants you on your damn _ knees, _ begging like bitch! It wants you to feel agony and _ love it _ because you can't fucking get enough! It wants you broken and bloody over your pristine fucking couch, screaming for more of me!” Akira’s hands dart forward, finding Ryo’s sharp hip bones and dragging him down to his lap. “I want you to take this dick until your spine breaks and you fucking choke on it! Happy, Ryo?” Panting harshly and face fixed in a snarl, Akira flexes his claws into Ryo's hips.

Amon chuckles, its dark laughter piercing through the cloud of rage that took over Akira's mind. _ No_, he thinks in horror. _ Ryo's going to hate me. He's never going to speak to me again, he won't—  
_

Ryo makes a noise, choked and strangled, shoulders shuddering. Akira relinquishes his grip only to have Ryo's hands catch his wrists. “You're…” Akira blinks, shocked. “You're laughing?” Ryo mouth stretches wide as he inhales and lets out a loud, long laugh, showing off his perfectly white teeth.

“You,” Ryo giggles, “are an idiot.” The way he says it, absentmindedly but somewhat chiding, leaves Akira confused as to whether Ryo’s talking to himself or him. Then he can't think past the steel grip Ryo has on him. Between one breath and the next, Akira's hands are pinned to the couch back and Ryo is hovering centimeters away. “Oh, Akira,” he murmurs, eyes sliding down his face like a physical touch, “you couldn't damage me if you tried.”

For once, the oppressive presence of the demon in the back of his mind is not pressing against his will. And, for once, Akira almost wishes it was. These few minutes have felt like an eternity, and now he’s filled with questions that crowd against his teeth but can’t escape because—because Ryo is right in his lap and Akira has never felt this much electricity from touching someone.

When Ryo has finished taking in the partially demonic features of his one and only friend, savoring each inch of skin in a way he previously never allowed himself, he meets Akira’s dark eyes again. He leans in slowly, not closing his eyes, watching the way Akira’s pupils dilate further and hearing his stuttered breathing stop. Their lips touch and neither blink. It’s a soft pressure that comes and goes in an instant, oddly chaste in comparison to the tension between the two.

“Akira,” Ryo says, lips brushing against Akira’s, sharing the same air.

Swallowing, Akira manages to stutter out, “Y-yes?”

Pale lips pull back into a sneer. “Don't fucking ignore me.” Ryo's teeth sink into Akira’s lower lip, piercing the flesh almost all the way through and tugging harshly for a moment, making Akira yelp at the pain and struggle not to jerk back and risk his lip coming off altogether. Akira strains against the hands holding him, but they don't yield until Ryo lets go suddenly. He gets up in a single smooth movement, face neutral like nothing happened, despite the blood smeared across his mouth.

Akira watches him walk away, utterly bewildered. “What the fuck?” he asks himself, wincing at the pain moving his lip brings. Lowering his arms, Akira sees bruises around his wrists and that, combined with the blood seeping into his mouth, triggers a wave of arousal. “Shit,” Akira groans, grabbing at his hair. His dick is so hard it aches, and the only reason he doesn't even try to touch is the harsh denim of his jeans is already rubbing against it unmercifully. Fuck.

Ryo stops walking, looking over his shoulder. “Come, Akira.” His index finger rises to his red stained chin, dragging it through the mess and directly into his mouth. The subtle sound of suction when Ryo removes it may as well have been blasted through surround sound speakers. Glowing, half lidded eyes flick to Akira’s crotch before Ryo disappears into the shadowy hallway.

Before he knows it, Akira is standing and striding in the same direction. “What the fuck,” he whispers, shaking his head and carefully unzipping his jeans.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
